2. Serious literachoor. Dean’s to blame for this. In his crit of my romance-in-progress, he suggested I had two novels rolled into one, a romance and a serious coming-of-age story about a doctor in training. I know I could write that. I don’t know if I could handle the idea of writing serious literachoor.

3. A medical cozy, a hospital version of Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express. Everyone takes a hand in offing the victim, from the ER doc to the anesthesiologist to the housekeeper.

Drat, I gave away the ending!

4. I need to finish editing the damnable SF trilogy (Nest/Flight/Shrike) so I can send it out. Damn that damnable monster. Does this count for three of my thirteen?

5. And I WILL finish editing Technical Virgins.

6. Sequel to the damnable SF trilogy, which would involve my surviving bird characters, meeting up a few years later on a planet populated by sentient amphibians. I have this one fairly well outlined in my brain, but the trilogy needs to sell first.

7. Novel version of “The Mechanic”. The story gives a strong indication of what happens to the two boys after they’ve grown up — that’s the story I want to write.

8. I know I have a YA story in me, too. At least one. You know how in some YA stories, the protagonist comes to appreciate his life and his family? “There’s No Place Like Home Stories,” that’s what I call them.

Well, eff that. My story would turn that trope on its head. Our protag’s initial mild queasiness with his life would evolve into outright disgust at his friends, parents, and home town.

I see this one as upbeat, cheery, a real grin-fest.

9. I’d like to write a YA love story, too. Cuz, being in love as a kid? Doesn’t get much more melodramatic than that.

10. A novel-length version of Bare Rump’s Diary. But is the world ready for the travelogue of a ten-foot-long sentient spider with a fondness for romance novels and human flesh?

Ack! Ten. That’s all I have. I’ll post more if I think of any, but for now, think about it: what would you like to read from me?

You know what to do. Leave comments, and I’ll link ya below . . . whether you’ve written a thirteen or not. (Why be exclusive?)

About Walnut

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This rather reminds me of that old Reader’s Digest series with articles like “I am John’s pituitary gland”, except I now can’t see that without imagining the thyroid jumping up and saying “No, I am John’s pituitary gland!”, and the islets of langerhans joining in with “No, we are John’s pituitary gland,” before the adrenal cortex chips in with “I am John’s pituitary gland and so is my medulla.”

Sorry, the real laugh-out-loud happened on reading Stephen’s comment. I could too well picture it. And the pineal gland, feeling all alone and neglected up there?

#8 and 9 – right there with you. Those are the ones I’m attempting to work on. Except the kid’s 35. But hell, he was a kid once. And that’s when much of the interesting action happens. And earlier. My take on that trope is “you can never go home again”. Its corollary is “are you sure you know where home is?”